


The Wrong Side of Life

by alexturn



Category: Arctic Monkeys, Last Shadow Puppets, Milex - Fandom
Genre: Age Difference, Alex is a hot mess, Angst, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Miles is also a mess, Past Underage Sex, Recreational Drug Use, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:28:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27591368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexturn/pseuds/alexturn
Summary: Things weren't always like this, it takes time and intimacy to access Alex's emotions, which only gives the lad a sense of betrayal when he's the only one on the verge of tears. He's no angel, though, never was. When they met, years ago, Miles ended up in Sheffield for a football event and at a gas station he found a lost boy, a misfit poet, his shy little rabbit. He'd smile thinking of all those pet names he called Alex already by the first time he fucked him, but he didn't wanna piss the lad off any more with the smile.He always lets Alex go.
Relationships: Miles Kane/Alex Turner
Comments: 5
Kudos: 36





	1. Whenever you love, whatever you leave

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Milex fic and I hope you enjoy the way I wrote them. It's a little bit toxic and I'm not romanticizing anything yadda yadda yadda I just want the boys to get a bit dirty.
> 
> I imagine Humbug Alex with Coup de Grace Miles but y'all can imagine how you want ofc!
> 
> Hope you guys like it. <3

"If anything, you were a waste of me fookin' time." Said Alex, partially proud but mostly and deeply just hurt.

He was finishing packing his things while Miles sat across the room, cigarette in hand to keep it cool, downplaying the fact that maybe this time Alex was serious about it. He probably wasn't, that's what Miles would say to himself, driving the long haired boy mad for his composure, like he was there just to spite Alex and his undeniable feelings.

Things weren't always like this, it takes time and intimacy to access Alex's emotions, which only gives the lad a sense of betrayal when he's the only one on the verge of tears. He's no angel, though, never was. When they met, years ago, Miles ended up in Sheffield for a football event and at a gas station he found a lost boy, a misfit poet, his shy little rabbit. He'd smile thinking of all those pet names he called Alex already by the first time he fucked him, but he didn't wanna piss the lad off any more with the smile.

He always lets Alex go.

The door slammed closed and he couldn't hear shite anymore. Alex wasn't the screamy type, at least not out of bed. He'd probably make his way down the street, call some of his friends that Miles didn't like, probably that Matt fella that he was sure only served as a crying shoulder cause he wanted to get his way with Alex. It wasn't a secret, Alex liked to be desired and then he'd play dumb innocent. Miles liked to know his boy was in the thoughts of other men but only in Miles' bed. Not tonite, no.

Fookin' hell.

It's not that he didn't trust Alex, but he wasn't even legal when they met, it's like Miles was stealing his youth and throwing him into this world Alex liked - and even fit, but at the same time, he just skipped a chapter in his own story.

When they first met, Miles thought it was gonna be just a blowjob by the bathroom stall, but those big doe eyes got him wanting some more, so he took the lad to his hotel room, and by that point he thought it was gonna be just a quick fuck in that not-so-nice hotel bed. Then it was already the morning after. Alex woke him up with a blowjob - all men's dream, Alex was a dreamboat by that time already. He wasn't as handsome as he is today, with his long hair and the fancy clothes Miles buys him, but he had quite an unique charm in those glossy eyes and chapped lips that felt big and soft around Miles' hard cock. They got high together after that and that's when Alex mentioned he wasn't legal yet, "I get too sincere when I smoke, Miles", he said, unable to look him in the eye, embarrassed not that he lied at the gas station but that he was telling the truth after. Miles was so caught up in the moment, especially after hearing his name leaving those rosy lips, that his morals didn't kick in, they never did about Alex, he didn't give a damn anymore, and so they fucked again.

Now Miles was pouring a glass of whiskey and reminiscing. He always got nostalgic about their first years together instead of facing his fear that Alex could leave him for good in the present. Not only that, but he worried about Alex, who hadn't really made a penny since they moved in for the first time, he never got a job but the lad worked tirelessly on his poetry, gave his everything to his craft but the industry changed and there was no place for a mind like Alex's, people only went for the superficial nowadays, the same rubbish.

Unlike Alex who was raised working class, Miles inherited the family business, a pub chain that sometimes even held some Premier League events. With this kinda money he supported himself easily as well as Alex. He also had a music studio; a small business that he started with his ex wife - of whom Alex was mad jealous of. Miles laughed with the thought. Alex was hotter when he was jealous, he'd put on a show for him every night after Miles had to meet with Suki. He'd wait for him by the door, on his knees with his mouth open, but first he'd smell Miles' cock like a dog, searching for foreign scent before deciding if he was gonna suck or bite. Miles and Suki didn't get along very well after their divorce once she tried to take the majority of their business to herself, so they'd usually meet with some animosity. Alex would always suck, and he was very good at it. He was a fast learner, demanding and daring, shameless.

Miles missed him already, that's what they'd be doing right now if it wasn't for the tenth fight in the week. Alex wasn't a good fighter, he'd have enough and leave, only to come back, sometimes he'd wait for Miles to go after him but that was becoming rarer. It was becoming a game they played, a game called desperation, they were like a drug to one another and sometimes they liked to play just to see who handled the abstinence best, but then again, Miles can always be wrong, Alex is unpredictable and he needs his fix more and more by the minute.

The weight of the backpack Alex prepared in a hurry was starting to bother him, he was starting to second guess and as soon as he found a dumpster, he left all his belongings there except for his phone and wallet. He wasn't very materialistic, all his things were actually Miles' things. He indeed called that Matt guy, a friend he made seven or eight months ago, someone who understood his working class point of view, who was around Alex's age, and who desperately wanted to fuck him. Matt wasn't bad looking or anything, Alex could fuck him easily but only to piss Miles off and have him fucking him harder after. Alex didn't like to use people though, especially a helping hand. Matt came by the park where Alex was sitting on the grass, tired of having nowhere to go, not wanting to end up in a pub getting shitfaced alone just to be at Miles' door in a few hours begging to be taken care of. Alex can get very clingy and Miles loves it when he does, that's when he feels Alex truly belongs to him. Alex, on the other hand, doesn't like this foreign side of his, not because he's ashamed but because it's rare for him to feel that way so it makes him uncomfortable.

The drive is silent, Alex is a silent lad. Matt knows this and doesn't mind, he knows when to engage and when to back off and maybe that's the thing that really makes Alex find his company pleasurable. Matt is taking him to his house in the suburbs, the landscape looks more like where Alex grew up than the places he lived for the last five years. Alex can feel relatively comfortable anywhere cause he doesn't fit anywhere so it really doesn't matter. He feels like he belongs to Miles though.

"Won't ask you shite but y'know you can talk if you want, aye Turner?" Said Matt while making the bed where Alex was gonna sleep in, on the floor.

"Was nothin'... Y'know I need me space sometimes."

It wasn't a lie, it was a polite way of saying he isn't a fan of spilling his beans, especially when they were already all over the place.

Alex was tired, him and Miles had done some coke last night and it got him going the whole day, but now it was the hangover, the depressive state of contemplating not only all the bad feelings he ever felt but also having to think about how much of a scumbag Miles can be when he's on coke. "Is he thinking of me right now?" He asked himself, to which he answered, correctly: probably. They'd always fuck the sad away, that's why they swore only to do coke together. That's where it started, Miles came back from work already on it, bought some more to mask the situation and when Alex caught him red handed, Mr. Coke got all defensive and rude, saying he deserves it since he works to pay for it and Alex should just enjoy the free drugs like he's been doing with everything else Miles offers him. Alex is no saint, Miles had his reasons to have a short temper with him but to say this type of bollocks makes Alex think again if that's where he wants his life heading to.

Alex lost his temper after that as well and they fought for some hours, fueling it with more coke, then they smoked a joint to try and keep it down. They felt each other's faces with the palm of their hands and their mouths touched, their tongues played a bit. Alex wanted to lick Miles' armpits so bad in that haze, wanted Miles' teeth on his nipple… He loves his teeth. Then they fought all over again till Alex gave up. But now that he was away all he could think about was the weed he tasted on Miles' tongue and the touching, fuck, he was gonna wank off right there, feeling empty having to cum with nothing inside him. He'd be silent for Matt was sleeping on the bed beside him, but Alex wouldn't really mind if he listened to him whispering Miles' name.

The day after is always the worst. Miles opened his eyes to the sunlight illuminating the large room he fell asleep on, laying on the fancy rug, feeling it with his fingertips while the memories of the day before started to kick in, aggravating his headache. He wanted to empty his head but ended up reminiscing again, this time about the day him and Alex bought the rug he was laying on top now. They were at a store looking for black curtains, Miles liked decoration but he liked it better with Alex's input, the lad was picky in the most reasonable ways. Navigating the corridors, Miles felt Alex's hands on him, hugging him by the neck to brush his lips against his ear, stawberry breath from the lolly he was previously sucking on. "I 'ad a dream where you fooked me raw against a rug like that one, Mi." He pointed to the darkest navy blue, velvetish fluff, but discreet, rug. So they bought it immediately and went home to make Alex's dream come to life. And so they did, a lot of times. Alex loved laying there on his stomach, naked, to write his poetry, secretly hoping that Miles would walk into the living room to spot him, ass up, so focused, just to interrupt and jump him like they're just animals. Something they both liked and needed in their relationship is how they can behave primitively, so they love the most primitive side of each other.

Now it was only Miles laying there alone, though. He got up for coffee and when he unlocked his phone to check his schedule, there was a message.

 **Al** 3:14AM: _I'll_ _cum for you layin beside another man_

So Miles knew the game was on. Now he was supposed to get jealous, and he was indeed, but he didn't like to give Alex the taste of it, knowing he's done it on purpose, he didn't deserve that. The thought of his boy touching himself in someone else's presence made Miles' blood boil a bit, but his part in this game was to keep it cool and show Alex that this was the least of their problems.

 **Miles Kane** 9:27AM: _Too bad you dont cum right when aint me by yer side. Come home Turner x_

 **Al** 9:30AM: _It's your home not mine_

Maybe this time wasn't a game, maybe Alex's messages were always just a way of showing how he needed Miles, but not a game. Maybe Miles was the only one playing and Alex was really ready to leave. Maybe Miles needed to start taking responsibility for his words. That's why the day after was the worst, no matter how many times they've been through this shitshow, he never really knew how far Alex would go, but Miles knew bloody well that he himself could go all the way for his rabbit poet.


	2. It's such a dirty, dirty irony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tags updated!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love this fandom and I hope this isn't too intense for it. sksjdjdksk trying as respectfully as possible to write my angst. Everything fictional, y'all know the deal. I really hope you enjoy this in some kinda way. <3

Heavy rain could be heard coming from outside. That was the sound that woke Alex up, but he wasn't at Matt's place anymore, he was at his own house. Or Miles', like he insisted about last night or whenever that happened. Speaking of Miles, the man was by his side, sleeping on his stomach, smelling like gin. Alex himself smelled like alcohol, no specification. What the fuck had he done again? The poor illumination wasn't enough to stop the lad from leaning over Miles' figure to look at his face, so peaceful in that moment. Alex's sense of memory was a tad faded, generally; he didn't know if that came from the alcohol and drug abuse or his ongoing state of melancholy that some people referred to as depression, but Alex called it "the blues". It didn't matter, he knew by heart that movie he was watching for the hundredth time. Even after swearing it was the last time he'd do it. Fucking empty promises. If Alex lied to himself, how could he not lie to Miles as well? Or, on the contrary; if he lied to the man he really loved but couldn't grow the courage to confess he wasn't happy anymore, it was because he couldn't admit that to himself.

A few minutes passed by till Miles said something under his breath, he was definitely not a quiet sleeper, and Alex was really used to them having half asleep conversations in bed while Miles' dick was still inside him getting softer till it was out. All the cum would drip from Alex's ass and wake him up from the slumber he was in, and wake Miles as well with whatever was his physical reaction. Alex would kiss his lips while Miles would ask if he was the only star shining in the sky, if he was having a good dream; or, if it was a bad one, he'd curse and wake up, Alex ready for him with another kiss, a tender one. Looking at Miles and actually remembering things was making Alex's stomach twist, or maybe it was the fact that he couldn't remember the last time he put something in his stomach that wasn't alcohol or cum. He leaned to smell that man, his man, – whatever weather, he was there on his knees, emotionally. Physically too, if needed – and think some more, feeling intoxicated by Miles' halo.

What they shared has a spiritual explanation. While in his early twenties, Miles got into knowing himself as a means to know the world. That made him have an advantage on how to process his own feelings. Alex, on the other hand, had no idea why he was the way he was, even though he was no ignorant towards human emotions, he definitely had his flaws when analysing himself. Having this advantage, Miles always knew what to say, to Alex and himself, he always knew what page and chapter he was on, while Alex didn't even know the name of the fucking book he was writing. At that point, he'd write and rewrite the same chapter again and again, because he was stuck on a loop in a text he'd always look at and think it was poorly made. Never enough. Miles was his calm when he had none, Miles was actually there. The spiritual explanation, on the other hand, was one that Miles once told Alex he learned from this book: souls that are meant to stick together, are put under heavy situations so they can grow. Oh, bollocks! He thought. Life was just shite, that was the way it always was, with or without Miles. 

What happened, Alex? If he knew himself and Miles well enough, he'd say he got drunk after leaving Matt's, went straight to his favourite pub, that reminded him of his hometown, and got wasted enough to call the man sleeping by his side to come and pick him up there. But then what? Maybe he made Alex suck him off while driving, one hand on the wheel and the other into Alex's brown locks, pulling and then pushing his head against his groin, making Alex gag a bit as punishment for the long hours he deprived Miles from soft lips and wet flesh. That wasn't right, – the intrusive thoughts he'd shut down with sex would pop on his head just like that – their relationship was built on sex and adrenaline, tears and passion. But that's not the L word, or is it? For a poet, Alex didn't really know how to love, he wasn't taught that way. He learned by himself how to get the attention of men, that's how he got Miles'. He learned that he was valid when he felt a hard cock against his ass or face. He learned how to feel worthy when he felt cum rolling down his thighs. That's what love was to him. Maybe he was too afraid to let Miles actually love him. Maybe his self love was a façade, when all his thoughts and writings carried the same self loathing tone, how could he say he loved himself enough to let someone else do it, too?

Heavy rain falling was the perfect sound to make Miles' sleeping get deeper and better, or lighter with its absence, which was the case there. White noise was his private heaven along with Alex's ass. And speaking of absence, his hand in search of said ass, got him noticing that Turner wasn't there. All the memories came back to him at once, making him sit up in bed and worry that Alex had left him again. His worries were not about where the lad would go to at that time, but about his own state with the hypothetical abandonment. Miles was bloody tired of being left behind by Alex, who seemed unable to decide for himself what he wanted. Maybe Alex ended up there by being accustomed to emotional coldness, letting their relationship go down while Miles hadn't even seen what he had done wrong, where they went to the wrong side of life. He became insecure with time, Alex wasn't always like that; he was always lost and had crazy attractive ways, but there used to be a line there, a line that the craziness wasn't respecting anymore, and it broke Miles heart to see it happening while Alex seemed to be unaware of the swift changes in his own feelings. Alex wasn't always like that; he was always spoiled, but not that selfish. Maybe love did die and they weren't the souls he thought they were. He was such a Pisces and he knew it, another niche in his spiritual interests was astrology. But the horoscope aside, he was emotionally drained from the last few days. His impulse was to check what time it was, but his feeling of time having stopped was a good one, so he decided to keep it.

Getting up was the next step, going to the kitchen for a cup of tea, trying to reach out to Alex or maybe forgetting his ways for a day, pretending to himself that he never stopped by that gas station. That he didn't see a young lad leaning over the front of his car while sucking thirsty on a lolly, smiling so shy it didn't match the rest of the act. Playing pretend that the lolly wasn't replaced with his thick dick that would spread those lips in such a nice view, make Alex's cheek full to caress the volume there on his face, like he was defiling and protecting some kind of innocence. His mind would jump to the future and then get right back to the past, those were Miles' ways, a pessimistic – being good at reading the room, he'd say – look in their relationship was becoming more and more often. So, the cup of tea. He was getting downstairs, back in the moment, passing by the living room when he saw what he saw: the fireplace was lit strategically to illuminate the body laying next to it, on that fucking rug of theirs. Alex was laying there naked, legs spread like he was an offer to a god, on hos back. The cup of tea was discarded for he had a thirst of different sorts. He crawled half the way over that body, getting rid of his pajamas that actually consisted of his undershorts. His body would slide on Alex's, that was moaning already. The little slut would moan like that when he was manhandled, especially the way Miles was doing right there, grabbing whatever flesh he had to grab, thighs and ass, that thin waist and his arms. Miles was all over Alex, not letting any skin pass untouched. His lips ended up on a nipple, beautifully lit by the burning light, getting sucked on, bitten, getting swollen in his mouth. The moaning was getting heavier, the little slut was being handled with no care at all, but at the same time, with devotion. Alex's rising sign was Scorpio, devotion was what he was after, or that was what Miles used to fulfill some kind of explanation for his poet's tastes in sex. He knew him so well; when they met, Alex was moved by the death of a cousin of his, about his age, that died in an accident. They weren't that close but they were close enough, Al and his cousin. Her death got him thinking he was wasting his life following a model. It made him, so young at the time, contemplate mortality. His reaction consisted mostly in buying drugs and selling sex for fun, or so he'd put it like that. Miles knew it was called trauma. It took some time for them to go steady, for Alex to leave whatever it was that he was building there, nothing at all, behind. Miles was never a client and Alex had no clients after him, only some post fight sex with strangers, like Miles himself would sometimes do. They were both mad jealous of each other, nothing good could ever come out of that.

"Tell me, Al, did ya let that fella empty his balls inside yer hole?" He asked in the most degrading way he could come up with, having played this game a few times before.

"Mmm. Why? Can ya feel 'is jizz still warm on yer prick?" Fuck, that little demon was good at that.

A slap on his face was the answer he asked for, that he actually yearned for. Alex loved being degraded physically as well, especially when he was feeling sad and broken down, he needed to become shreds before becoming himself again, even for a day, sometimes that was his fuel. And there he got to the point where he was begging again, pride gone when confronted with the wet tip of Miles' dick against his hole, spreading his cheeks with one hard grab of a hand. Both hands right after, pulling Alex's hips against his own, opening that previously prepared hole already sucking him in. "Filthy slut. Aren't ya?"

"Aye. Filthy rotten." Replied a panting Alex, sounding like a song would, words beautifully pronounced with that accent different from Miles', making his cock hardened by how moany his rabbit was. He felt like a man all the time with Alex's sex, he felt powerful looking at the mess he was able to make, and it got him feeling as dirty as their talk.

Soon, Miles' hands were back at brown locks, grabbing Alex by the hair to get his face steady. He was looking at his baby in the eyes, watered eyes from pure pleasure, something that enriched his needy whore act. "Ah." Miles showed an open mouth, a silent order for Alex to part his lips a bit more, which he did immediately after. A thick stripe of Miles' saliva slowly dripped right into Alex's tongue, as he worked hard not to move too much while being impaled as slowly as that. Soon he was all stuffed with cock, rolling his hips as soon as he got accustomed to Mike's size once again. Miles liked to think that what he was doing to Alex was simply training his body, training his ass to have him inside and no one else. He wanted that body answering only to his calls, his touch. He wanted Alex addicted to him, and he had exactly that, but the price he paid for that was yet another vice, his biggest weakness.

"Fook' me harder, Mi. M'not gonna break." An impatient Alex ordered at the wrong moment, like the brat he was. And the reply he had was truthful: "But ya will break, rabbit."

Skin on skin never felt as good. It was amazing how sex with Miles always left Alex an absolute mess, completely unable to control his own reactions, both physically and mentally. It felt too good to travel inside his most bare needs, his raw desires, and have it all shaken and met, or destroyed, or mutated into another type of desire, an addiction. Nobody knew how to fuck him like Miles did, to validate this side of him where most fragments of his self would lie at, his unconscious mind, his primitive desires. He loved being loved like that, cause that was the love he knew. He loved meeting Miles' primitive self, his counterpart, his complement. Miles was like a God to him, getting so deep inside him, both literally and metaphorically. He needed his cock, needed to get stuffed everyday, to be called what he wanted to always be, a filthy slut. His hips would shake on their own, making it hard not to moan loud when Miles' would slap him in the ass, skin on skin, that delicious noise and wet, wet meat. The older man was still grabbing him by the hips and pulling his whole body to meet his own. Those hands didn't waste time though, running up to the poet's waist to squeeze like he could actually break him. It felt so fucking good not be someone, while being someone's everything. His everything's everything. Problem was, that everything only held this state of vulnerability while being shagged and a few hours more. The afterglow. It was never enough of anything.

Lips met lips for the first time, and kissing that man made him regret putting on that whole show, it was too much for him to take it. He closed his eyes, being pounded and kissed hungrily, messy wet kissing between moans. It didn't take Miles much longer to let Alex go, depriving him of his dick for a few moments, only enough to turn Alex on his stomach. He knew the codes, he knew how he wanted it; ass up, face down, laying bare against the soft velvety purple rug. Feeling his nipples being rubbed against it as well when Miles thrusted hard enough to make his body go forward, just to pull it right back by the waist. When his knees felt firmer against the rug, Miles mounted him, holding his back down with one hand then, and pulling his ass up with another, while pounding him hard from above, making Alex feel all kinds of feelings inside. His hole would clench so hard when Miles fucked him in that angle, and that was Miles' reward to himself: to get Alex's hole behaving exactly how he needed it to, chewing on his cock applying enough pressure to make it throb inside, pulsating.

Knees firm on the rug made it easier for Alex to move his ass, to shake it, throw it right back at Miles' hips, feeling heavy balls slapping him again and again while his own balls were getting all swollen. When Miles was done fucking him that way, he laid beside Alex, without removing his cock from Alex's insides' delicious grip. From behind, Miles would keep pounding, grabbing Alex's leg to get it up, open his legs again just for the sake of it, to get him exposed, to make him feel like he belong to him as bad as he needed to keep touching, fucking. An open mouth then appeared over a shoulder marked by Miles' teeth, and into that open mouth he shoved his tongue. Embracing Alex made it easy for him to grab that neck and squeeze a bit, making Alex cough just enough to make it tighter inside, making it hard not to go faster, and so he did. He could feel Alex already melted against him, all sweat and moans, completely given to him, and that was too much. Enough to make him lose his composure and forget he wanted that round to last more. He wouldn't stop, quite the contrary, he'd go faster and faster, slipping his hand till he was grabbing Alex's dick and squeezing it as hard as Alex's insides can do. They didn't last much longer, ending up with a hole filled with cum, chest also covered in it, hands, mouth, cum flavored kisses, nipple sucking… 

"M'gonna suck me cum out yer arse, Al." His voice was softer. His own afterglow.

"Let me keep it a bit more." Alex asked, to which Miles replied with a kiss on marked skin.

He laid by Alex's side again, now comfortably out of the adrenaline rush lane, back home. It's just that home wasn't as comfortable anymore. The furniture had changed and sometimes they'd go back to find a door without a lock, and their keys would feel useless. That home of theirs. The room was filled with hard silence, when words and touching got out of their way, what was left was thoughts; fears, insecurity, pain, resentment. That was how the silence actually felt and why they screamed so much all the time with actions, sometimes words.

"I'm unhappy, Miles. I wanna break up." Alex said, turning his body towards Miles so he could face him, even though he didn't want to, he needed to.

"I know, Al." Defeat. "Me too."

Alex hugged Miles' neck and they pressed their bodies together, legs entangled as their emotions, faces rubbing and at last a good night kiss. Who needs happiness?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you if you read my little thing till here, this means the world to me. ❤️

**Author's Note:**

> Title/chapters titles from the song Miles actually dedicated to Alex in the Coup de Grace tour akakaksjsksksdj 
> 
> Thank you guys for reading!


End file.
